May
2008
IN CONVERSATION
...
... with Peter Carpmael MBE. Peter,
who lives on South Green is a Second World War Veteran
who suffered dreadful injuries at Monte Cassino. After
the War he became Assistant Secretary and eventually Secretary
to a national animal welfare charity called “Our
Dumb Friends League” which was subsequently re-named
“The Blue Cross”. He is the author of the
recently published “Was There Ever Seen Such Villainy”
which was reviewed in last month’s Southwold Organ.
Click here to read the
review.
Where were you born and brought
up?
I was born in 1920 in Hampstead, London. My parents fairly
quickly moved out to where I was brought up, which was
a growing housing estate outside Guildford in Surrey.
At first it was mainly a vast area of poppy fields and
as I grew I watched it build up (but not spoiled) with
quite nice little houses. It had the great distinction,
which I am sure has affected me, that there were all shades
of background in the community. So it was totally democratic.
The question of class, which I find absolutely abhorrent,
quite naturally never arose in my life. So that was splendid.
The only unpleasant thing was most of the boys I grew
up with were killed in the war.
Did you attend a local school?
No, I was sent to Oundle School near Peterborough. It
was one of those curious family things. I had two very
successful cousins who went there. One of them was Philip
Carpmael, an exceptional man and a brilliant rower at
Cambridge. In the early days I used to be fascinated by
him because he always seemed to be in the newspapers.
He led a team for two years running to Australia where
they won easily against extremely tough opposition. Despite
his successes he was totally modest and such a nice man;
I was always very fond of him. He married twice and his
second wife was great fun. He used to be very involved
with the Henley on Thames Regatta, and I had the privilege
of being invited each year. Mind you, rowing can be a
little boring for the spectator. You sit waiting on a
barge and suddenly two chaps come whizzing past and then
they’ve gone and it’s all over. One of the
funny things was the way they put out the information
about winners – in a rather unkind way I often thought,
for the boat which had been lagging – it would be
said that the race had been won easily.
When Philip was in his late forties, he
raced against a young man who was just starting, but who
was recognised as having brilliant potential. Part of
the skill in rowing is to have an understanding of everything
that’s happening about you, such as the flow of
the river and the weather conditions. With his years of
experience and his knowledge of the river, Philip knew
exactly how to get ahead and he won the race easily. The
sad thing was that the boy never rowed again. Defeat by
this funny old man in his forties put him off, which was
very sad.
Later Philip was still rowing at the age of 70 against
his sons; he was quite remarkable.
At school, having looked on at my cousin’s achievements,
I wanted to do the same and so put my name down for rowing.
It didn’t happen though because I was told that
I couldn’t participate – something about a
bad heart. Well, here I am at 87 still boring the pants
off everybody who’ll listen so they must have got
something wrong there. For me going to Oundle was simply
following in a family tradition. I didn’t do anything
very successful there, but the one thing that I really
had a fixation on at school was Christopher Marlowe. I
was enthralled by his work and in particular his
play Dr Faustus, which we studied. I was totally lifted
by his incredibly beautiful poetry. That carried on through
my life and was always with me. Eventually of course it
turned up in my book.
I read that you were a bit of a
daredevil at school and that you performed handstands
on the church roof.
Oh dear, oh dear – well its true I’m afraid.
I was an awful show off. It was pretty easy to find a
way up the outside of quite small churches. But I always
made sure not to attempt to stand on my hands outwards.
I would always do it inwards so that if I fell over I
would fall comfortably. There was nothing very daring
about it, but of course I made sure a cousin of mine took
a picture of me.
What did you do after school?
I left school at the end of the summer term in 1938 when
I was 18 and went to a school of physical education in
Denmark. It was run by a very nice, but eccentric professional
chap who was married to an English woman. There were close
ties between him and an athletics district in Cardiff
in Wales. It was called the Fredensborg English College
for Physical Education. It had a rather nice badge, which
incorporated the Rose of England and a Viking Ship. There
were about twenty-five of us altogether and about a third
came from Welsh Wales. They were great lads and we had
lots of fun. I found all their different backgrounds amazing
and simply loved the mix. Many of them were there because
they honestly wanted to get a qualification in order to
get a good job. It was hard to get a job at all in those
days. It was very good for me to be with these lads because,
having come from a privileged school, I was totally unaware
of this.
I met some fascinating people and experienced
a marvellous mix of ideas. Out of the twenty-five, I remember
one was on the ocean liners as a swimming instructor,
another was a professional football player, and another
was a welterweight boxing champion.
Of course, while we were there we bumped
into the local populus – the place was full of stunning
girls. It was absolutely marvellous.
We saw, for those days, some quite extraordinary
things. Denmark was closely related in trade to Britain,
but also to America and they were far advanced socially
through their contacts with America. One of the amazing
things we attended was a huge building with stalls high
up looking down on to a stadium. Suddenly, during one
performance the stadium sank down and filled up with water,
then from down in the depths of the water a rock slowly
rose bearing a naked girl like the Little Mermaid Statue
which stands in the Harbour at Copenhagen. I also remember
seeing a whole area of glass come straight down. We were
agog at seeing these startling things.
We were only there for about 9 months,
but were lucky enough to be invited by the principal to
attend a world celebration of the 150th anniversary of
the concept of physical education, the Lingiad held at
Stockholm. It was just before the war broke out and people
attended from all over the world. It was set around islands
and there were lots of motorboats. I particularly remember
some members of the awful German Nazi Youth being there
in a beautiful white yacht. They jeered at us –
“you English are so lazy you never learn anybody’s
language”. Of course that was absolutely right,
but their arrogance stood out. They were astonishing –
Hitler was making the most of them. Mind you everybody
else was astonishing too. There were brilliant performances
over the period of a whole week and we saw all kinds of
displays.
Did you begin to see changes with
the war coming?
Yes, we went home at Christmas time – just before
1939 and saw barrage balloons up. We also met sailors
who’d been on ships that had been bombed in the
Spanish Civil War and suddenly we realised that things
weren’t going to be normal in the future. When we
came home the second time there were sand bags in London
- it was all building up I’m afraid. As soon as
war was declared I immediately joined the Army. I was
given the King’s shilling and was so stupid then
I said “Oh no thanks awfully” and tried to
give it back. I soon got a bit of the army flavour - “Don’t
be silly lad”
Were you given a choice about what
you would do?
As happens in the Army, I was sent to the Buffs. I joined
them at Canterbury in March 1939. That summer the whole
of the Battle of Britain happened over our heads. One
astonishing day we were out on manoeuvres in fields outside
the town when we heard a tremendous noise, and felt a
sort of shaking. I can’t exaggerate what we saw
when we looked up. The sky was black with aircraft. There
were hundreds and hundreds of them going over towards
poor London. One of the stories of the time was that because
the Germans had got thousands of pilots, many of them
perhaps trained in a hurry, it was useful for them to
make sure that Canterbury Cathedral stayed put as a landmark
for them. They simply flew to Canterbury and turned right
for London.
Being so close to the Battle of Britain was an extraordinary
experience and we began to get the feel of war.
How long did the training last?
It was roughly a year’s initial training. I did
six months training with the Buffs and three months officer’s
training. After Canterbury, I was with a unit where we
were selected for Officer’s Training and posted
to the Isle of Man. We arrived just before Christmas 1939
and another typical Army thing happened. We were told
we could go home for Christmas. Of course we didn’t
mind at all, but my poor parents had to find food for
me when I turned up at home in Surrey. When I was commissioned
I joined the South Staffordshire Regiment near Northumberland.
That was exciting.
What next?
I was sent abroad. We went first to Scotland (you never
knew what was going to happen) and were put onto a huge
vessel on the Clyde. We had heard murmurs about “The
Mary” and it eventually dawned on us that we were
on the Queen Mary. You won’t believe this but we
went out to Egypt on the Queen Mary and we were over three
months at sea. We stopped at Cape Town for about ten days
because there were Japanese submarines about. All these
wonderful big ships were one of the reasons we were able
to win the war. Commissioning them enabled the armed forces
to ship large divisions across the sea in order to carry
on the war. Subsequently the Queen Mary did regular trips
backwards and forwards from America bringing American
troops over to England.
The Queen Mary is a huge vessel but with
a division of troops on board it became like a little
tug. There were a number of tragic deaths on the way out,
I suppose because of the crowded conditions. The seas
were vast – you often couldn’t see the sky
and the way the ship trembled at the bottom was quite
astonishing. I also remember that two boys died on the
train on the way up to the desert.
What happened when you arrived in
Egypt?
Well, we eventually landed in Port Said. That night the
Germans tried to bomb the Mary but fortunately didn’t
manage to hit her. The allies had got these Swedish Bofors,
which were enormous anti-aircraft guns and they were firing
them very low over our tents. There was a tremendous racket
going on what with the Bofors and various kinds of small
arms fire going up as well. Of course what goes up has
to come down, so consequently there was all sorts of rubbish
falling around us in all directions. This was our introduction
to it all.
As we went up beside the Suez Canal to the desert we saw
vast German prisoner of war camps. The prisoners were
jumping up and down making signs to us that they wanted
to cut our throats.
In no time at all I was put in a great 100-yard line of
young officers and we were allowed to choose which regiment
we would go to. There were people from all the regiments
waving their flags and you went and joined them if you
wished. I didn’t want to make any choice –
I thought if fate is going to do what it will - let it.
Anyway, I got pushed off to a famous unit of the 8th Army
called the Green Howards. I’d come from the Buffs
whose regimental name had originally been the Buff Howards
so that was a coincidence.
We arrived just before Alamein. I got stuck in a military
hospital outside Alexandria with about three major infections.
It was common to pick up Sand Fly Fever, and all sorts
of infections. After a while, they released me from hospital
for a week’s leave and I went to the station to
get a train. One of the Africans shouted to me that I
was about to get on the wrong train, and as I started
to leave it he changed his mind. By this time the train
was moving; I was so weak from the illnesses that I stumbled
and ended up hanging on to the underside of the train
wedged between the train and the rail. Fortunately the
chap who had caused the accident shouted to the driver
and he stopped, otherwise I would have departed there
and then. That was a bit of luck.
Was that the end of your time in
Egypt?
No, I recovered from my illnesses, but we were frequently
up and down from the desert with odd infections.
It was a rather odd atmosphere with the 8th Army. They
were holding the line and desperately needed reserves,
but they’d got this elitism. We were referred to
as “get your knees brown” because we hadn’t
been out in the sun long enough to get brown. It was silly
- there was a sheer distinction made and it was clear
we weren’t welcome. It was very uncomfortable on
the Alamein line. We were at the Southern section with
the Mediterranean in the North. Alamein itself was just
a little railway station. At the bottom was a whole area
of soft sand where only specialist troops could get through.
Permanently in the desert you had to be constantly jumping
off tanks or transport and
helping to push or dig vehicles out. But in this area
it was a hundred percent worse. We in the Southern sector
felt very comforted when we looked through glasses and
saw masses of British tanks. We later found they were
cardboard cut-outs used to deceive the enemy. There were
lots of deceptive arrangements made to deceive the enemy
such as false pipelines. Of course it was vital for them
to know from where the attack was to come. In the end,
as you know, the attack wasn’t in the South or North,
but along the whole line.
I can’t really remember the details but I got injured.
One of these war time accidents; some shrapnel in my shoulder
I think. This resulted in me being off for some time.
What used to happen if you were sick or floating was that
they would put you on a course. Well, I was put on a very
rigorous course and just happened to do well. As a result
I was offered the post of instructor at a new unit called
the Allied School Of Infantry in North Africa. The School
had been created in Algeria by General Alexander as a
place for troops coming out of action where they could
combine a holiday and some infantry training. It was a
very good move for me, as I was there for six months and
had great fun. Hot sunshine and nice people, with a good
mix of American, French and English troops. There was
a noticeable distinction between the nationalities though.
The Americans and English simply wanted to get the war
over and go home, but the French troops wanted to kill
Germans. It is a dramatic memory, but a truth. Their country
was overrun and being wrecked by the Germans.
What happened when your six months
were up?
From there I was sent to the 2nd Battalion the Royal Fusiliers,
so I finally got back into a Regiment. The Regiment went
back to Egypt for special training and then back up the
Mediterranean at just about the time when the Italians
joined the allies. I was with a unit in Italy and we had
several clashes with the enemy. Then I was finally sent
to Cassino. I had twenty-one men and we were on the front
line holed up in a badly knocked about building. The German
line was less than 100 yards away. It had been a tough
time because the area had been under constant bombardment.
You had to be very careful moving about – it was
an absolute mess, with bombed ruins everywhere. They had
a thoroughly sensible idea of stretching white tape out.
This helped us in the ruins, (especially in the dark)
to find our way from one position to another simply by
following the white line. The units stayed on the front
line for about a fortnight at a time. There was a constant
barrage – it was really quite exciting – of
smoke bombs from the artillery. Shells would be filled
with small smoke bombs and would be fired to explode in
a strategic position to give cover while the food and
ammunition supplies were brought up. That’s how
it worked. There was a tremendous racket of course with
all the firing.
Well we got shot up - it happened at twenty
past one in the afternoon. We were either having or just
finishing a meal. Some of us were sitting on a stretcher
(which was there ready for use if needed) and others were
stretched out on either side. There was a large black
box of grenades on the ground. You never primed a grenade
unless you were going to use it because it was dangerous.
But we were so close to the enemy that we never knew when
we might need them. At this particular time the whole
box of grenades had been primed.
Everybody I spoke to afterwards said they heard nothing,
but I heard this bomb right from the top. A mortar bomb
goes up, stops, turns over then descends in a straight
drop. I heard it coming all the way down with a loud swoooooosssshhh
- a ghastly noise. It struck the edge of the concrete
roof, so we were showered with hot metal and powdered
concrete. Of the twenty-one of us, seven were killed outright,
seven, like me, were badly hurt, and the other seven got
chips and chops. So that was a useful piece of mortar
from the enemy’s view.
After the hit were you conscious
of what was going on around you?
Yes, I found myself flat on my back and could see the
box of grenades nearby belching black smoke with flames
coming out of it. I realised that this was the first thing
to overcome and shouted, “for God’s sake somebody
put that out or we are all going up”. Fortunately,
troops managed to extinguish the fire – so that
was the first hurdle. Then we waited for the whole meticulous
business to be carried out. In that kind of situation
great care is taken to ensure that everything is done
militarily and correctly. Morale is a serious consideration,
and what happens to the dead is very important to those
who survive. The medics and the priests were always very
highly regarded by the troops. All the dead were carefully
carried and laid outside ready to be picked up later.
While we were sorting ourselves out, we had to contend
with the sound of a gun called a Nebelwerther, which had
recently been brought in by the Germans. It was a unit
with about six cylinders, which all fired bombs together
sending out a shower of mortars. They were known as “sobbing
sisters” because of the sound they made when they
were lobbed. It was a completely different sound to that
of shellfire and we didn’t like it.
I suppose they began moving us out at about twenty past
ten that night. It was difficult to get us out because
a human body is so heavy. Another obstacle was that great
parts of the area were covered with water having been
deliberately flooded to keep the enemy out. So as we were
carried along, the enemy mortars were plunging in the
water around us. That reminded me of photographs I had
seen of ships at sea being bombed. Anyway, we bumped along
until we finally came to a knocked out building where
the medics dealt with us. Finally we were taken by ambulance
to a hospital and then gradually back and back.
You say you were badly hurt, do
you mind telling me about it?
Well I can show you. My wristwatch was blown through my
wrist here. I got a large piece of metal through my delicate
left ankle, and the calf of my right leg was cut in half
lengthwise. It was literally shaved in half. I need sticks
now but I am fortunate – I can get about and I still
drive. I never forget that I am just lucky to be alive.
I find it hard to imagine how you
and your men stayed there from twenty past one until past
ten o’clock that evening with such terrible injuries.
The thing is, however appalling a situation is you just
have to get on with it. You haven’t any option.
All troops carry a small first aid emergency pack in a
little pocket. In addition the unit would carry a larger
pack of shell dressings. In the case of my leg, which
was a very large wound, someone produced a shell dressing
to put on it. Not much we could do but just lie there.
When it first happened I could hear a sort of “sshh
sshh” noise and suddenly realised it was the sound
of my bleeding. I have spoken to a doctor since and apparently
it is all about the angle at which you are struck. If
it is a sheer cut straight across you are unlikely to
survive because you can’t repair. If your injury
is a diagonal cut there is a chance of it automatically
trying to repair. That must have been what happened to
me and so I survived.
Do you remember much about what happened next?
I can’t really remember how long I spent in that
first hospital – about three weeks or so I suppose.
I was probably saved by the introduction of penicillin.
It was painful and you had to have it every three hours
for a fortnight.
Everybody was very helpful – appalled of course.
Eventually I was lucky and got home. On the ship, I have
a very sad memory of a pretty nurse dancing to some dance
music with a Canadian officer. He was about my age, blinded
and covered with black pockmarks from an exploded mine.
I shall never forget the look of absolute despair on his
face.
It was almost two years after I first left that I landed
back where I’d started - in the Clyde. I was then
taken across to this wonderful, beautifully run hospital
in Scotland, which had been created for injured troops.
It was so sad and very uncomfortable to see the wives
and sweethearts coming to see what was left of their husbands
and boyfriends.
There was a boy who had come under fire on patrol at night
and he’d been paralysed. His troops had carried
him back unaware that they were mauling his legs en route.
He was in a pretty sad state. We were together for about
a month on the same ward. We used to sing some silly songs,
one of which was “pistol packing momma”. I
can remember him singing that song at about 3 o’clock
one morning as he went to a better world.
I was one of the lucky ones, but I had to repair and it
took a long time. It wasn’t until a year later that
I was just beginning to walk - all these things have to
be learned.
When you recovered, and obviously
it took you a very long time, what was the next step for
you?
The next step was finding a job - especially when I fell
in love. I know this is all being recorded and it can’t
be evaded; I had three fiancés. I ended up getting
rid of them but it was all amicably done. Then I met my
darling so I needed to get to work. Eventually I went
to the British Legion and they found me a job. The organisation
I joined had the appalling name of “Our Dumb Friends
League” - marvellous charity - silly name. It came
out of the era of Queen Victoria and the name was chosen
because it appealed to the sentimentality of those days.
In 1912 the League had launched “The Blue Cross
Fund” to assist animals during the Balkan War. This
help extended to other conflicts including the First and
Second World Wars. During the wars the charity had set
up hospitals for horses in Europe. This had huge public
support and large amounts of money were raised. Afterwards,
there was a residue of money to deal with, which led to
all sorts of complications with the Charity Commission
– you can hardly use money raised for horses in
war when there aren’t any horses being used in war.
Anyway to cut a long story short, we found a way of keeping
the legacies.
We changed the name of the charity to “The Blue
Cross” (with “incorporating Our Dumb Friends
League” in brackets). It has remained the same but
we just stick to “The Blue Cross” title -
very nice too - a simple thing to remember.
There were something like fifty odd branches of all sorts,
including hospitals, but our financial situation wasn’t
good. It is all very well to be loved by the public, but
its no help to anyone if you can’t afford to run
the organisation. With a great deal of heartbreak we decided
to reduce the branches considerably - down to about twelve.
We had to be quite ruthless and it was very uncomfortable,
but we made it work. All the money we saved from the properties
we closed we put back in, and then began creating new
ones. We are now up to just short of twenty, including
some big hospitals. There is a marvellous hospital in
Grimsby in Lincolnshire, and various other units stretching
round the country. The original Victoria Animal Hospital,
which opened in 1906 to provide veterinary care to the
animals of poor people, is still the main hospital, having
undergone extension and refurbishment over the years.
It is a very professionally run organisation with a marvellous
team of veterinary surgeons. We always had qualified vets
but standards are constantly being raised.
How did you meet your wife?
Before I joined the charity in 1947, which was the year
we got married, I had been working in a boys’ prep
school. I was back with my parents is Surrey. (My father
was an actuary and my mother was a most marvellous extrovert;
a total female. She was lovely – great fun. There
was only me and I was totally spoilt.)
Anyway, one day I was drinking beer in
the local pub with this funny old boy and he told me that
he was Headmaster of the nearby school (the school had
moved from the coast to this safer location). He ended
up offering me a job. I told him I had no qualifications,
but he said it didn’t matter, so I spent a year
there teaching. Ann had been nursing at St Thomas’s
Hospital in London, but because of the bombing they also
moved out to country premises in Surrey. One of the boys
at the school heard that I was having treatment at “Tommy’s”
hospital and he said “Oh Sir, you should see my
sister” and that’s how it started. She was
perfect and a wonderful nurse. They make the best mums
and we were lucky enough to have three boys.
Do your sons live nearby?
All my three boys live in East Anglia now. Patrick, the
eldest lives near Cromer and teaches English at The Norwich
School. James, the youngest is an actor and is married
to an actress. They live just outside Norwich. He works
in a charity museum where they take school children to
teach them about the past. He takes the parts of historical
figures such as a Victorian headmaster and so on. My middle
son John is at Woodbridge. He teaches the Alexander Technique
which is about balance. He is also a homoeopathist. He
has a thriving practice of roughly half and half. Its
great to have them all near and I see them every week.
I am lucky.
Tell me about your recently published
book
I always wanted to write and over the years I suppose
I have written seven books. This is the last one, which
is probably a re-invention of something I have written
before. It is an adventure story in which I have been
able to draw on my own wartime experiences and my lifelong
interest in Christopher Marlowe. I can’t remember
whether it was this book or another one, but I had one
of them back from various publishers at least forty times.
I was persistent. I got to the stage where I decided that
this couldn’t go on. So we got a quote from a good
English firm of Publishers, but it was too much. The boys
found a Canadian firm that came up with a figure, which
wasn’t too bad. They keep their cost to a minimum
by only printing as many copies they know they can sell.
I’ve had nice reports from people who’ve enjoyed
it.
What was your MBE awarded for?
I have had a very happy life with no great successes.
I was awarded the MBE for what I suppose you could regard
as long service with the Blue Cross. I was just the Secretary
for a very long time. It was fun when I went with Ann
to the palace. It is an amusing ceremony with the Guards
band playing on the balcony and the Queen surrounded by
high-ranking members of the armed forces handing out the
medals. I think it was the Queen who put mine on me, but
I’m not sure whether that’s just my memory
playing tricks. Anyhow, when I was in front of her, she
said quite simply “staff or voluntary?” I
replied “staff”, and she nodded and I moved
on. That was that – but we did enjoy the day.
What brought you to Southwold?
Most of our married life was spent in Surrey, but we were
regular visitors to Suffolk.
Ann’s family originally came from Norfolk and they
used to go to Southwold every year for their holidays.
The other tie was that Ann had been to St Felix School.
We were very lucky that both Ann’s mother and her
brother each had a holiday home here and we always came
for our holidays.
Later, when the children were grown up, we sometimes went
instead to Northumberland because it is such a thrilling
place and I have very fond memories of my time there during
the war. I love the open wild countryside and the lovely
people and the beautiful Tyneside accent.
We came to live in Southwold when I retired at the age
of 65. We had heard about this house being on the market
the year before and were determined to have it, but we
hadn’t got any money! It was on the market for £80,000.
You know how it is everybody knows best and some who knew
us were shocked that we were contemplating spending so
much money. In fact we got it for £79,000. We were
so lucky that it all worked out thanks to Ann’s
aunt. They had been great friends, and when she died,
at the age of 90, she left a large part of her money to
Ann. At the time we made the offer for the house we had
no idea about the legacy. I wasn’t sure how we would
manage, but knew it was something we had to do. Then that
happened – luck again.
We have lived here for 24 years. Ann died in April last
year and my world came to an end. She had been ill for
about 3 years with this awful Alzheimers. It was beastly
but we had some marvellous carers and, here again, the
luck to be able to afford to pay for them. I know that
people can achieve savings through their lives but they
are nothing like the amounts that can be required in certain
situations. In the end she wasn’t really in this
world; it was very sad. We celebrated our diamond wedding
anniversary on the day before she died. She was wonderful
and we had a marvellous life together
